


by the people, for the people

by beautifullights



Series: everyone has scars [14]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Canon What Canon, Dancing, Fluff, Happy Sex, Life After War, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Porn with Feelings, Victory Celebration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:55:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22074355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifullights/pseuds/beautifullights
Summary: “You saved the galaxy,” Poe whispers.After a moment, Finn nods. “Yeah. I did. You did too, if I remember correctly.”“Enh,” Poe says. “Some days. Other days I just blew shit up.”“Also a meaningful use of your time,” Finn says.---In which victory comes with dance music, democracy provides helpful guidelines for sex, and canon is thoroughly defenestrated.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Series: everyone has scars [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/388042
Comments: 15
Kudos: 213





	by the people, for the people

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second of two ficlets I wrote back in 2016. It does not continue the Force-sensitive Finn plot I began in the previous ficlet because I wrote this one before that one and I could not be assed to retcon it in later. So just....imagine it.

The music changes with a sudden jolt: twice the tempo, twice the volume, twice the crazy. “Yes!” Poe shouts. He beckons to Finn. “Come on, buddy. We’re dancing to this one.”

Finn follows Poe out onto the dance floor. “What is this?” he shouts at Poe. 

“Nabooian hoopla song!” Poe shouts back. “What you play when everything is awesome and when everything is terrible and when everything is fucking whatever!”

“Which one is this?” Finn grins. 

Poe cackles and beckons Finn towards him. “Come on, buddy. It’s all in the glutes, yeah?” Finn takes a moment to admire said glutes, making a note to take a closer look later. Just to—you know. Find out _what_ , exactly, is in those glutes. “We’re gonna fucking dance, buddy!” Poe shouts. 

Poe’s hands are in the air and his hips—holy fuck, his hips—and the glutes, yup, there is some consensual ogling happening right now. Mutual ogling, it’s clear, when Finn’s eyes rise back to Poe’s. “Come on, buddy,” Poe mouths beneath the deafening beat. He lifts his eyes from Finn’s shoulders—seriously, though, those _shoulders_ —and holds his hands out. 

Finn takes them and lets Poe pull him in. It’s only a few moments before his body acclimates to the beat and his hips start moving too, entirely of their own accord. He closes his eyes and _yeah, fuck yeah,_ this is how it’s done. Poe hoots beside him. Finn grins like a maniac, losing his mind and his feet and his ass—yup, it _is_ in the glutes—to the fierce, driving beat. 

“I swear,” he shouts at Poe. “You’re more excited for this than you were for our wedding!” 

Poe grinds up against Finn with an equally ear-splitting grin. “I am!” Finn’s eyebrows rise to his hairline. Poe holds up a hand. “No no no, okay, hear me out!” The song winds up, frenetic and pounding, then cuts off with a final thumping beat. The musicians immediately segue into a slower, sexier song that Poe is positive hails from a particular club in Nar Shaddaa he should _never_ have gone to. 

“Listening…” Finn might possibly take a moment to cop a feel. Because, you know. Because. 

“Look,” Poe spreads his hands. “Our wedding was incredible and amazing and definitely the second-best day of my life. But it wasn’t going to change anything, you know? I still call you _lover_ more often than _husband_ , because—because that’s what you are. You’re not just the one I’m married to. You’re the one I’ll always love. The one who loves me. Our wedding was a way to declare ourselves in public, but I was always going to be with you for the rest of my life.” 

And…yeah, Finn’s grinning like an idiot. Because. You know. Hearing Poe say things like just never gets old. 

“But—” Poe links his hands around Finn’s shoulders and sways closer, sighing into the slower beat. “That wasn’t really going to be a long time. You know? For either of us. But here. Now. It’s—it’s _done,_ Finn. It’s _over_. They’re _gone_. We blasted those banthafuckers right out of the fucking sky. You know?” Poe’s grip tightens. Finn matches his hold, leaning in until their foreheads touch. 

“It’s _done_.” Poe’s voice shakes. “It’s really fucking _done_. We won, Finn. We fucking _won_. So now—now _everything’s_ changed. We get to go home.” Just like that, he’s crying in a completely unexpected rush. Poe presses his head into Finn’s shoulder and—just— ”We get to go _home_.” His voice cracks. 

“All of those—those _dreams_ , Finn. The garden and the hammock and the courtyard and the stars. Children _. Family._ We get to fucking _have_ one. I—I never—I never thought we really could. I’ve been—Finn. You’ve been fighting your whole life. You get to find out what peace feels like, now. Do you know—do you know how much that means to me? How I can’t wait to see you walk into our house and realize we—we don’t have to keep our blasters under the bed. We can just go for a fucking joyflight, wherever we want to go, and not have to fucking shoot anyone down. We can make love all night and sleep all morning and not have to report for duty. We— _Finn._ ” 

Poe takes a shuddering breath. _“This_ is the moment when everything changes. You know? It’s real. It’s fucking _real._ We’re _free._ We’re _safe_. We’re fucking _alive._ Both of us. We _made_ it.” He grips Finn hard enough to bruise. “We fucking _made_ it. The galaxy is safe.

“For now,” Finn murmurs. Poe’s parents had thought the same in their day, he knows, and _wow_ , were they wrong. 

“Yeah,” Poe sighs, “okay, yeah. For now. But _still_. I’ve been fighting towards this since I was _eighteen_. And you, your whole life. I—” Poe laughs suddenly. “I don’t know what to do with myself now. I can’t even _imagine_ what it’s like for you.” 

He looks up at last, cups Finn’s face in his hands, and kisses him as though—well. As though they‘ve just fought an intergalactic war, and won. Finn’s hands slide down to Poe’s waist and hold him tight, press against him as though they can—just—sink into each other, and figure out how to make sense of this new galaxy. 

“How is it for you?” Poe whispers when they break apart at last. 

Finn stares at him. 

Poe stares back. 

Finn shakes his head in one tiny, infinitesimal gesture. 

Poe nods. “‘S okay, buddy.” He presses Finn close again. “‘S okay.” Finn’s arms wrap around him with the force of a falling AT-AT. 

Finn hasn’t actually allowed himself to think about the fact that the First Order might, indeed, be completely gone someday. Even mostly gone. That—his mind always just skipped over the idea, like a planet with too little gravity. 

“They’re gone,” he finds himself murmuring.

Poe cups his hand around Finn’s face. “Buddy.”

“I’ll be okay,” Finn says. But even he can hear the distance in his voice. All his life, the First Order has been _there,_ looming over him with its monolithic systems. Even when he left, it was still _there,_ looming at a remove, threatening him with the prospect of recapture and reconditioning, or worse— _so_ much worse—with the prospect of destroying everyone he loves. If it’s _gone_ —if he and everyone else are _safe_ now _—_ he—just—doesn’t even know what that means. 

“Finn,” Poe’s saying urgently. He runs his thumb beneath Finn’s eyes. But Finn’s not crying. He’s just— ” _Finn_ ,” Poe repeats. “Hey. Come back.”

“If they don’t exist,” Finn says, “then who—what am—” His voice breaks off. 

“You’re a leader of the Resistance, Finn,” Poe says, quiet and insistent. “You’re the bravest, kindest, smartest man I’ve ever met. You’re my husband. You’re Rey’s best friend. You’re the founder of the Freedom Campaign. You’re _Finn.”_

Finn stares at him. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Poe answers, with the absolute confidence of a man who was promoted to commander far before he felt ready for it, and had to pretend the role fit until it actually did. 

Finn shakes his head. “That’s not going to work on me, you know.”

Poe deflates. “Damn it. Fuck, Finn. I don’t know what to tell you.” He bites his lip, then adds: “Oh, wait. I think I actually do. It’s going to feel horrible for a long time, and you won’t know what to do with yourself or who you are or what you want to do or even what you _can_ do. And you’ll probably cry sometimes and wake up in the middle of the night scared of what might happen. And you’ll talk to people about it and go on long walks and think about and just work until you don’t think about it as much anymore. And then eventually you’ll be ok again.”

Finn blinks at him. “What,” he says.

Poe shrugs. “At least, that’s what you said happened after Starkiller. And this is…pretty similar, no?”

“Yeah.” Finn’s still staring at him. 

“You saved the galaxy,” Poe whispers at last. 

Finn’s silent.

“You did.”

Finn meets his eyes. After a moment, he nods. “Yeah. I did. You did too, if I remember correctly.”

“Enh,” Poe says. “Some days. Other days I just blew shit up.” 

“Also a meaningful use of your time,” Finn says. 

Poe laughs, free and clear. Finn hugs him closer and buries his head in Poe’s neck. Poe’s hand smooths over the nape of his neck, gentle grounding pressure. 

The dancers dance around them. The musicians slowly draw their song to a close. BB-8 shrieks with joy at a joke from R2-D2. The sky opens wide above them, bright with afternoon sunshine. Poe’s fingers trace down the long gash of stitches connecting the smooth leather halves of Finn’s jacket. The jacket that used to be Poe’s, and Poe’s mother’s before that. 

Finn closes his eyes and breathes. The galaxy spins around them, and they—they spin right along with it. 

  
  
  


* * *

When Poe wakes the next morning, Finn’s not next to him on their small pallet, in the little clearing they've claimed for themselves in the woods while the base is still under construction. He sits up blearily and looks around. Oh. There's Finn. Sitting under a tree not far away, on the other side of the little clearing they’d claimed in the woods. Knees to his chest. Chin on his arms. Buck naked. Staring into the distance. 

After a moment, Finn turns and looks at Poe. “First Order’s done, huh.”

“Not a dream,” Poe says, voice morning-rough.

Finn nods. He looks out through the woods for a long time, silent. A pair of ghoral birds greet each other sleepily in the trees above them. Poe looks around at the forest—tangled vines, brambling shrubs, iridescent mosses. A whole new host of species to learn. He could swear he sees a tiny, fur-tailed creature with shiny-bright eyes peer out from around a tree, but it disappears as soon as his eyes catch on it.

“It's going to take me a really fucking long time to wrap my head around it,” Finn says. 

“Yeah, buddy. That's okay.”

“I know that's okay.” Finn stretches to his feet. “But. I've been thinking about it. And—I was thinking—you know what this means, now? We decide. From now on. _We_ decide.” 

Finn steps toward Poe and pulls him up from the blanket. They stand toe-to-toe, skin-to-skin, heating the morning air between them with the crush of their bodies. 

“We get to write the rules now,” Finn presses. “We get to write the story. _We_ get to choose.” 

“Fuck yeah, we do.”

“So until I get used to this.” A grin spreads like lava, slow and unstoppable, across Finn’s face. “I’ll just have to, you know. Make shit up as I go along. Yeah?”

“Isn’t that what we always do?”

Finn’s grin spreads even wider. “Exactly.” He cocks his head at Poe. “So. I choose to make ridiculously slow sweet love to you and then have breakfast and then think about this a bit more later. How’s that sound?”

Poe blinks. “Um.” 

Finn beams at him.

“I vote yes,” Poe says at last, having somewhat regained the power of speech. 

“Good,” Finn nods. “Here’s to democracy, then.” He distracts Poe briefly with an X-wing salute before sweeping his arms underneath Poe’s knees and shoulders, picking him up bodily, spinning him in a circle, and depositing him again on the blanket.

He looks down at Poe.

Poe bites his lip.

“Well.” Finn tilts his head. “I would say the First Order can suck my dick, but—” he kneels down astride Poe’s thighs— “they’re gone, and—” he leans down to leave a line of kisses from Poe’s pelvis down the length of his rapidly hardening dick— “you’d probably do it better, anyway.”

 _“‘Probably?’”_ Poe props himself up on his elbows. “Get up here, you asshole.”

Finn grins down at Poe. “Word choice, Poe. Seriously.”

Poe blinks and runs through that last sentence. “Oh. Yes. Well.” He sits up, pulls Finn in for a heated kiss, and executes a maneuver slightly too complicated for his morning-addled brain that nevertheless ends up with Finn on his back, Poe kneeling between his legs.

“Oh, I see how it is.” Finn links his hands behind his neck and smirks up at Poe. 

“Way I see it,” Poe says, “First Order tried to fuck you over, so you fucked them over instead, and now it’s way past time for the _fun_ kind of fucking.” 

Finn nods thoughtfully. “You know,” he says, “I like the way you think.” 

“Oh, I’m going to do a lot more than _think,_ buddy.”

“You are, huh? All I’ve seen so far is a lot of talk. What’s your plan?”

“Plan?” Poe says. “ _Plan?_ Nah. Today, we’re making shit up as we go along, right? I’m just going to roll with it.” 

“Makes sense. Is that what they teach you in flight commander school?”

“Exactly. Logical decision-making, and all that shit.”

“Uh-huh,” Finn says. “With visual aids on how to best fuck your husband?”

“Enh, not so much.” Poe rummages around in their packs until he finds the lube (yes, Pava, he _does_ plan ahead, when properly motivated). He lifts Finn’s thighs, ducks beneath them, and props an ankle on each of his shoulders. “Some things you can only learn from experience.” 

“Huh.” Finn’s breath hitches as Poe slides a slick finger inside him. “Oh.” His head tips back against the blanket. 

Poe takes a moment to reintroduce his finger to the right spot inside Finn, who jerks beneath his touch. 

“I,” Finn says. 

“Yeah?” Poe asks.

“Yeah.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Poe agrees, adding another finger and scissoring them apart. 

“Come on already,” Finn whispers. “I’m ready. I’ve been ready for hours now.”

“Nope,” Poe shakes his head. “See, this is how democracies go under. Failing to follow their own rules. Ridiculously slow sweet love, we agreed. We voted on it and everything. Remember?”

“Yes, but—”

Poe adds a third finger and angles all three of them upwards at the precise juncture of nerves. 

Finn’s legs tighten around Poe’s shoulders and pull him in closer. “Asshole,” Finn pants.

“Definitely.” 

Finn tips his head back again with a groan. “Rest of our lives, huh? Are you always going to be this way?” 

Poe beams down at him. “Bet your ass I will.”

“That one was on purpose.”

“Yep.” Poe’s fingers squelch in and out, delightfully obscene. 

“Fuck.” Finn shakes his head. “I am never going to survive this.”

“Survive what?”

“You being—you. All the fucking time. I just—” Finn closes his eyes and rocks down onto Poe’s hand, suddenly losing his breath entirely. _“Damn it,_ Dameron, put your fucking cock in me already!”

Poe blinks. “Well.” He removes his fingers. “Ok. When you ask so nicely.” He slicks his cock, squares up, and—never let it be said that he takes direction well—slides the head around Finn’s rim. “But really, you had a plan. A great plan. Ridiculously slow sweet love.” 

“Fuck the plan,” Finn moans. 

Well. That’s a statement they can both agree on. Poe closes his eyes as he slips inside at last. Finn slides his legs off Poe’s shoulders and down to his waist, locks his ankles behind Poe’s back, and shoves Poe closer, rooting him nearly to the hilt. Poe’s breath leaves in a huff. He catches himself on his hands and lowers his head for a moment, just—just— _feeling_. 

Finn stops too, apparently slightly overwhelmed. “Plan was,” he manages at last, releasing his hold on Poe’s back enough to give his lover room to move. “Making shit up—”

Poe eases back until he’s nearly out, then sheathes himself again in one swift motion, giddy with the intoxicating rush. 

“—as we go along,” Finn pants. Poe pulls out again, adjusts his angle, and aims for Finn’s prostate. Finn’s entire body jerks in response. “Oh, kriff,” he gasps. 

“Now, that’s my life philosophy, right there,” Poe agrees. “ _‘Oh, kriff_.’ Ever since the first time I heard you say it. You just—you. You. _Oh_.” 

And…that’s when he gives up on coherent statements. Finn’s body—just— _fits_ around him. A second home. The slick slide of his cock in and out of Finn’s body, the tight clench of Finn’s muscles around him, the sheen of sweat on Finn’s skin, the open plea of his parted lips, the strong lock of his ankles on Poe’s back—the two of them, together, like a moving sculpture of durasteel rods. Moving together, apart, together, apart. 

Pleasure builds in a succession of overwhelming waves in Finn’s body, heating him from the inside out. He pulls Poe closer, closer, closer between his legs, hands clutching at the grass to ground himself. 

Poe’s movements slow, then still. He lowers himself to Finn’s chest and grabs Finn’s arms to steady himself. “Poe,” Finn gasps. He’s so—close—he—Poe dips his head, sucks at one nipple, then the other, pulling them each into his mouth with deliberate focus. “Oh, kriff,” Finn mouths, shaking. “ _Poe_.” He— _needs—_

Poe pulls out again with inexorable slowness, then rams in with the full force of his body, heated and sure. His movements rock Finn back and forth, in and out, in tandem—Finn shouts, rocks up to meet him—and Poe stops again. 

“Fuck,” Finn gasps. “You. Fuck. Poe—”

“Ridiculously,” Poe rasps. “Slow.” He kisses one spot on Finn’s chest. “Sweet.” He sucks a small mark, moves up to find a nipple again. “Love.”

“Democracies,” Finn pants. He can’t stop his hips from jerking up, desperate for friction again. “Follow.” He takes hold of Poe’s hair, pulls him close, and kisses him hard. “Will of— _oh kriff_ —the fucking _people_ , Poe—”

Poe moves again, shaking with laughter, filling Finn’s body with focused—driving—power—he shifts his weight to one hand, finds Finn’s cock with the other, and twists up with a few powerful strokes. Finn shouts, incoherent, and clenches around Poe. Poe coaxes Finn’s orgasm from him with short, sure jerks. Hot come spills over his hand and between their bodies. Poe’s hips rock forward in small shudders, held in the tight clasp of Finn’s ankles around his back. He moves again, and again, and—and he’s coming too, with a hot rush inside Finn. 

Finn’s arms come up to wrap around Poe’s shoulders, drag him down, and kiss the fucking hell out of him. 

Poe’s breath comes short and heated. His fingers tremble on Finn’s skin. “Finn,” he whispers, small broken gasp. 

“ _Poe_ ,” Finn answers, eyes shut tight. “Oh _, kriff_.” His fingers tangle in Poe’s hair, closing the circuit between them. His hips rock up to Poe’s and down again, feeling the pleasurepain of the drag of Poe’s cock where they’re still joined. Poe starts to pull out—Finn tightens his legs around him, needing the connection. Poe rests his head on Finn’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. 

“Plan was,” Finn rasps. He closes his eyes. “Was a good plan.”

“Damn straight,” Poe nods.

“Nope. Definitely not straight.”

“Mmmph.” It takes Poe’s post-orgasmic brain several moments to come up with a word. “Damn skippy, then.”

Finn blinks up at him. “Damn skippy.”

“Yup.”

“Damn fucking skippy.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Finn pats Poe’s head. “Go to sleep, you nutcase.” He yawns hugely. “Going to get you back for that, you know. One of these days. When I can move again.”

“Looking forward to it.” Poe grins down at him, smug as a firecat in its lair. “Is that the plan, now?” Finn’s ankles release their tight grip on Poe’s ass; Poe slides out, slow and careful, and drops down by Finn’s side. 

“Fuck the plan,” Finn mumbles, and buries his nose in Poe’s hair. 

“Mmm-hmm,” Poe agrees. He curls an arm around Finn, relaxes into the blanket, and closes his eyes beneath the bright morning sun.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos fuel my computer! 
> 
> <3 you all


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